The One Who Was Lost
by GraciaJavert
Summary: "Look at them. Still waiting for the return of the one who was lost." Old ghosts and unlikely alliances on the journey home from Akator. KOTCS AU.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was barely over the horizon as Indy approached the flooded debris field. Grumbling to himself, he picked his way through the underbrush, scanning the ground before him. The day was already uncomfortably hot, and wisps of steam rose from the muddy ground. From the forest, a cacophony of unknown calls echoed. Glancing over his shoulder, Jones stepped quickly into the open.

As he scanned the periphery of the basin, his heart sank. There was a narrow stretch of mud between his vantage point and the water, but it was deserted. No sign of human presence. Beyond the shore, the ruins of the alien temple stood, barely recognizable. He stared intently, approximating the spot where he'd lost sight of Marion and the others. His gut told him that they couldn't have survived; after all, the entire complex had collapsed into the water.

Indy took a shuddering breath and kept walking.

He remembered the lash cutting into his palms as he tried to drag Mac to safety, straining against the heavy wind that swept through the passage. Before tossing the whip to his friend, Indy had sent the others on ahead, trusting that he'd be able to catch up. But he hadn't succeeded in saving McHale, and he was unable to overtake his party. He had straggled out of the temple, drenched and disoriented but intent on searching for his companions. Darkness had finally halted his efforts.

With a growing sense of panic, Indy jogged towards a distant outcropping, hoping that it would afford him a better view of the area. As soon as he reached it, he began climbing, sweat stinging his eyes. The rock was mossy and slippery under his hands, and it took him a long time to reach the top. His climb finished, he glanced around carefully. A good distance from where he stood, his eye caught a flash of movement, barely visible among the piles of rubble.

He squinted, and kept his eye glued to the spot. Something moved again, and he found himself wondering if it could be a wild animal. The thought made him a little nervous; he carried a firearm, but he'd run out of ammunition the previous day. Fingering his knife, he stepped to the edge of the rock and slid down. He'd spotted the movement near the far edge of the lake, about half a mile to the north. Brandishing his knife, he headed in that direction.

* * *

><p>With a muttered curse, Marion kicked the side of the amphibious vehicle with a bare foot. She had somehow managed to lose her shoes in the mad rush to escape the collapsing edifice, and her clothing was damp and bedraggled. Brushing a strand of oaky hair from her eyes, she leaned into the boat, spotting her son.<p>

"Mutt!"

"Yeah?" The young man wrinkled his forehead as he fiddled with the engine, working to hotwire the boat so that they could take off. He had shed his tight leather jacket, leaving it slung over a nearby seat. His tee shirt was stained with sweat, and his expression was strained. Leaning forward, he rummaged in a tangle of wires, and then made a sound of satisfaction.

Marion cocked her head. "How's it coming?"

"I think I got it…" There was a roar as the engine sparked to life, and the boy whooped.

Marion turned around to where she'd left Oxley, resting in the shade of an abiu tree. His shawl was tossed over his face, and his hands were clasped loosely before him. She approached, and he sat up, looking around with a bewildered expression. They had spent the previous night searching frantically for Jones, and the whole group was exhausted. Marion still felt a welling of fear when she thought of him, wandering confusedly among the ruins, or else dead. Whatever she felt towards her former lover, she didn't wish for his death. Their relationship was complicated, yes, but she'd be damned if she'd let him die alone in the wilderness.

Mutt called for them to hurry, and Marion offered the old man her hand, helping him off the ground. They clambered into the vehicle, stepping through the shallow water at the edge of the river. Just ahead, she could hear the roar of the flood that had inundated the ruins of Akator, creating a wide basin strewn with debris. Setting her jaw, she slid into the driver's seat, motioning for Mutt to claim the chair beside her. Oxley settled in the back, gripping the side of the roofless vehicle. As Marion pulled away from shore, she addressed the others, keeping her voice steady.

"I want to search the basin one more time…"

Mutt glanced at her, obviously trying to be sensitive, but failing miserably. "That would just be a waste of time," he said quietly.

"Maybe not!" Oxley suddenly cut in, preventing Marion from responding to her son. "Anyway, it certainly wouldn't hurt."

"Unless there's submerged debris," Mutt interjected. "Then we could tear a hole in the boat."

"I'll be careful," Marion stared firmly, leaving no room for debate. Part of her wondered why Mutt was showing so little regard for Jones' welfare, but she decided to let it pass. Steering into the current, she headed for the ruined temple.

* * *

><p>Irina Spalko wedged her fingertips beneath the heavy block of stone, scrabbling for leverage. There was the sudden rasp of stone on stone, and she twisted around, bracing her shoulder against the unwieldy block. She shoved with all her strength, but the debris would move no more. Letting herself fall back in exhaustion, she closed her eyes against glaring noon sun.<p>

The day before, she had revived to find herself pinned beneath a chunk of rubble, lying at the edge of the flooded basin where Akator had once stood. She had been greatly displeased to find her rapier missing, and even more so to realize that her mission had failed miserably. The events after she'd returned the skull were blurry, though bits and pieces of the disturbing incident remained. She remembered excruciating pain, a brilliance which had left her flashblind. The whole experience had had the quality of a hallucination; she suspected that the ordeal had been a mere illusion, given the fact that her body remained undamaged.

From a professional standpoint, Spalko was not dissatisfied with the results of her investigation. She had gathered a quantity of useful knowledge, and eliminated a potential weapon for immediate development. After all, they had discovered that the particular powers possessed by the skull could not feasibly be used in military applications. They were too volatile, too unwieldy. The artifact would first need to be studied, measured and controlled by competent researchers.

Though her primary goals were those of the Soviet Union, Irina had established private stakes in the operation. She had hoped that the quest would answer questions of her own, the answers to which had continuously escaped her. Though intelligent, the Colonel was emotionally inept. She preferred questions with precise answers, and despised any sort of ambiguity. Thus, she'd readily accepted the answers the Beings had offered her. Lying under a heap of rubble, she realized her own foolishness.

But such thoughts would do her no good. Spalko glanced critically at the slab that pinned her left leg. She had managed to free the rest of her body the day before, working in the twilight that had fallen by the time she woke. She had spent an uncomfortable night among the ruins, watching warily for signs of danger. Most of the Ugha had been killed in the short skirmish with her troops, but she had assumed that others could return to finish her off. Without a weapon, she was at a distinct disadvantage.

She had been relieved when the sun finally rose, burning off the thick mist that had settled over the floodplain. The morning was fairly clear, and she stared broodingly into the distance, still breathing raggedly. Her fatigues had dried stiff and uncomfortable, and she shifted awkwardly beneath the weight of her jacket. Just then, she glimpsed movement a few hundred yards away, at the edge of the jungle.

Uneasily, Spalko picked up a nearby piece of shrapnel, keeping her eyes trained on the spot. Clutching the metal in her hand, she watched a human figure approach, still partially obscured by shadows.

"Hello?"

She recognized the voice immediately, and her chest tightened. A disheveled figure emerged from the undergrowth, swinging a handgun. Indiana Jones looked bewildered by her presence, and he raised his weapon slowly, eyes wide and intense. She waited as he took in the block of rubble that held her immobile, the tattered state of her fatigues. He nodded to himself, assured that she had no weapon, save the piece of metal she was gripping.

"Dr. Jones. How interesting that you have survived also."

"Damn right, sister." There was a click as he dismantled the safety mechanism on his firearm. Irina watched his face carefully, and noted with interest the way his eyes moved rapidly. This was a sure sign of duplicity, and Spalko was confident that she could call his bluff.

She raised an eyebrow. "Given that your weapon is not actually loaded, you may as well put it away."

"How-"

She glanced towards the empty clip at his belt. "You are a direct man, Dr. Jones. You would have shot me on sight."

He hesitated, then holstered his weapon with a sigh. "You're right."

"How fortunate that you are effectively unarmed." She relaxed a little, but still noted the resentment in his voice. Mulling over how to turn the situation to her advantage, she waited for a response.

His mouth tightened, and a look of reluctance passed over his face. "Haven't seen anyone else out here, have you?"

"I am not exactly in a position to answer your questions," she muttered, inclining her head towards the stone that had her pinioned.

He scowled in exasperation, and made as if to leave.

"Still, I will assist you on one condition."

Jones paused, crossing his arms.

"Help me move this debris."

He grunted in reluctant agreement. Striding forward, Jones crouched beside her, placing his palms against the chunk of stone. He shoved forward, and Spalko caught hold of the edge, using this leverage to topple the block. He stepped back, wiping his hands on his trousers. Irina pulled her caught leg from the rubble, fully expecting to find it crushed. Brushing dust from her fatigues, she was relieved to find that her injuries were only superficial.

Jones glared at her. "Now, where's Marion?"

"Dead, I would imagine," she said dryly.

"You gotta do better than that-"

"-However, I do believe in keeping my word. Do you require my help in searching?"

He seemed surprised by this offer, and removed his fedora, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure if you can manage it…" he said dubiously, glancing at her injuries.

She shrugged, and shakily gained her feet. Gingerly, she put weight on the injured leg, and found it reasonably sound.

Jones squinted, and finally gave her a nod. "Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Hello! Thanks for reading the first chapter of **_**The One Who Was Lost. **_**Feel free to leave a review; I love receiving feedback! **


	2. Chapter 2

Spalko stood at the edge of the debris field, methodically scanning the shore for signs of life. Night was falling, and a purplish haze had settled over the water. Here and there, the remains of an edifice rose sharply, lit by the setting sun. Jones stood a few feet away, picking at the rim of his fedora and staring anxiously into the distance. Spalko crossed her arms and turned to regard him.

"We have very little daylight left."

He jumped a little, as if he'd forgotten her presence. "Let's make the most of it," he replied tersely. He took a few steps forward, replacing his hat.

Spalko resented his domineering tone, and scowled. "You would do well to avoid taking such a tone, Dr. Jones."

"Why is that?"

"I am not required to assist you," she snapped.

"A deal's a deal."

She rolled her eyes, and continued scanning the basin. Still, the tension in the air did not dissipate. Assisting Jones was a small price to pay for her life, but she felt rather irritated at the inconvenience. Staring at the empty husk of the temple, crumbling slowly into the water, Spalko felt a sudden disquiet. The situation had a grotesque familiarity, but she didn't wish to reflect upon it. It did shed light, however, on why she'd been so eager to offer her assistance.

Nonetheless, she couldn't keep an image from surfacing in her mind. Shattered buildings crowded out the sky, and smoke hung wraithlike, obscuring her vision. She felt the weight of a machine gun slung over her shoulder, and caught the sweetish odor of burning flesh. A fire was crackling in the alley to her right, but she knew better than to investigate. She passed a body, then another; still, she kept walking. Her heartbeat filled her ears as she approached the end of the street, and she brushed a hand against her weapon, letting the cold metal steady her nerves.

With effort, she shoved the memory away, focusing her attention on the scene before her. It was nearly dark, and a light drizzle was falling. She looked at Jones.

He exhaled heavily. "Yeah, let's quit. I suppose we don't have a choice." He had scarcely finished speaking when a guttural roar sounded from the jungle.

Spalko allowed her unease to show in her face. Gripping the makeshift knife she had picked up earlier, she looked back towards the jungle. Jones followed her gaze. "Maybe we should take watches?"

She gave him a nod. "That would be wise."

"It was a jaguar, I believe."

"A pity we don't have a functional firearm." As she said this, Spalko felt faintly guilty. She had a spare clip tucked inside her jacket, with half a dozen bullets. But she still didn't trust Jones, regardless of the fact that they were currently collaborating. He would be reluctant to give her his handgun, and she certainly wouldn't hand over her ammunition. She had decided that it would be best to keep this fact from him, at least for the present.

* * *

><p>Indy knelt by the fire and extracted a match from his pocket. Striking it against his thumbnail, he dropped it carefully among the damp twigs he'd gathered. A light rain was falling, and the small flame fizzled out after a few seconds. He scowled, and added more kindling, fishing in his pocket for a new match.<p>

Several feet away, Spalko crouched in the shelter of a crumbling wall, draping her jacket over her head. Her expression was surly as she watched him struggle with the fire. Indy glanced at her, and then returned to his task. Finally, the flame caught, and he headed for the relative shelter of the wall. It wouldn't keep them dry, but it would provide a bit of protection from the jungle.

During the search, they'd found no trace of Marion and the others, and Indy was anxious for their safety. His gut feeling was that they'd managed to survive, but he'd found little evidence for this theory while combing the ruins. It was bitterly ironic, he thought, that Marion had vanished just as they were beginning to work things out. In his heart, Indy knew he had never gotten over Marion Ravenwood. She was passionate, audacious, and incongruously naïve, and still drew him like a moth to a flame.

Settling beside Spalko, Indy slid the matchbox into his pocket and brushed his hands on his trousers. It had grown very dark, and he could barely discern his companion's expression. He cleared his throat. "I intend to continue the search at dawn."

She nodded carefully, seemingly mulling over a response. Then:

"I will need to be on my way tomorrow, Dr. Jones."

"Suit yourself."

"You must realize that this is a fool's errand. Ravenwood and the others are undoubtedly dead." Her voice held an element of scorn.

"I don't think so."

She shrugged. "Your doings aren't my concern."

Indy leaned against the wall, adjusting the brim of his hat. "How'd you survive, anyway?"

She bit her lip. "I am not entirely sure."

His interest piqued, Indy decided to continue this line of questioning. "I assume you didn't get your 'unlimited knowledge,' or whatever that Being was offering."

"My memory of the incident is rather poor." She seemed to shudder, and adjusted the jacket over her head. Despite her best efforts, her hair was soaked, plastered messily around her face. In the firelight, she looked softer, almost vulnerable. Still, by the arrogant set to her jaw, Indy could guess that she wouldn't take kindly to further questions.

"Fair enough," he said quietly. "Want to take first watch?"

She nodded distractedly, and Indy tipped his fedora over his eyes, preparing for sleep. He didn't trust Spalko; still, he supposed that without a real weapon she could do no harm. He could hear her breathing beside him, and caught the glint of her improvised knife in the firelight. On the other hand, she was formidable in a fight, and he wouldn't relish having his skills tested. He guessed he'd just have to keep one eye open, and hope she had the good sense to keep to herself.

* * *

><p>Spalko stared thoughtfully into the muggy darkness, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The rain had ceased, and beyond the fire, a copse of dripping trees was visible. Her watch was nearly up, but she was struggling to stay alert. Her fingers were wrapped around her knife, and she crouched uncomfortably on the damp ground, keeping an eye on the treeline.<p>

As she waited for her turn to rest, Spalko occupied herself with planning the next day's departure. She had no supplies, save a ration bar and compass in one pocket, a canteen, and the clip of ammunition concealed in her jacket. She was confident that she could find her way back to base camp, but the journey would be dangerous, and would take several weeks. It wouldn't be easy to stay alive with such a meagre assortment of gear.

She had toyed with the idea of asking Jones to accompany her. After all, he was in possession of a firearm and matches. He also seemed to have a decent knowledge of survival techniques, if he could be convinced to abandon his foolish search for Ravenwood. Though she didn't trust Jones, Spalko felt no particular animosity towards the archaeologist. Despite his resistance, Jones had been rather helpful in her search for Akator. His intellectual abilities nearly matched hers, and he was particularly adept at tracking down antiquities.

Perhaps she would propose that they continue their partnership. They could pool resources, and Spalko would allow him to leave unhindered once they arrived at the base camp. She wasn't sure if he'd agree, but surely he would see the logic in the arrangement.

Spalko shifted positions, stretching her legs out before her. Her left leg still felt sore, and she had difficulty straightening her knee. With a grimace, Irina laid down her knife and tugged off her boot. Carefully, she rolled up her trousers and leaned forward to survey her injuries. Her knee was painfully swollen, and she glimpsed a deep cut just below the joint.

Unclipping her canteen, Spalko poured a little water over the wound, and wiped away the remaining blood. She then tore a strip of fabric from her sleeve, and bound her knee tightly. Infection was a constant hazard in the tropical rain forest, and could easily kill. The inflammation of the cut made her uneasy, but she supposed she could do nothing more. Setting the discarded boot aside, she picked up her improvised knife and twirled it between her fingers.

Without her permission, her thoughts wandered back to the day's activities. Circling the lake with Jones had left her exhausted and irritable. His insistence on searching for his party had touched a nerve, though Irina didn't want to admit it. She had been similarly unreasonable once, and it hadn't ended well. While serving in the Great Patriotic War, her unit had entered her ancestral village in the Crimean Mountains, only to find it burning, its inhabitants slaughtered. Her family had not been spared, but she hadn't had time to give them a proper burial before moving out. They had been interred in a mass grave, along with dozens of other unlucky residents. Even now, the recollection brought on a dull anger.

Spalko had not allowed herself the luxury of grief, though. She had devoted her energies to developing esoteric military technologies, and her efforts had been amply rewarded. She had ascended to a high rank within the directorate, and had received several medals for her service. Her emotional detachment had proved far more useful than any futile lamenting of the past.

She glanced at the sky, where a pale moon shone through the heavy clouds. Her watch was over; it was time to wake Jones. Turning to her sleeping companion, she spoke.

"Jones. Get up."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Hey! Thanks for continuing to read The One Who Was Lost. I return to school next week, so expect infrequent updates. I have a crazy semester coming up, and my personal life has been kind of chaotic lately. Anyway, make sure to review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Just before dawn, Spalko woke to the sound of quiet footsteps. A light wind was stirring in the trees, and she caught the smell of smoke and leaf rot. Dragging a hand over her eyes, she sat upright, and glimpsed Jones kneeling before the fire. He stirred the ashes with a fallen branch, trying to coax them back to life. After a moment, he gave up, and fished the box of matches from his pocket. Sparking a match and tossing it among the coals, he glanced back at her.

"'Morning," he said gruffly.

She gave a curt nod, and approached the fire. The air was unexpectedly chilly, and she was grateful for her jacket. Settling beside Jones, she gave him a sidelong glance. "I take it your watch was uneventful?"

He shrugged. "And yours?"

"Without incident."

There was a long silence, as Jones stared thoughtfully into the fire. His hands were laced tightly in his lap, and his brow was furrowed. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and decisive. "As soon as the sun comes up, I'll continue my search."

Spalko wrinkled her nose at this proclamation. "Actually, Jones, I have a proposal…"

"What?" He seemed surprised.

"Why not continue to travel together? It would be far safer, and we could pool our equipment."

"Why not? I'll tell you, sister. I need to keep looking for Marion." His tone was heated.

"I am sure you realize that that is foolishness."

He didn't reply, but the wrath in his eyes told her enough.

She turned away indifferently, tucking the jacket more tightly around her. It was missing several buttons, but she had nothing with which to replace them. Her fingers toyed absently with the remaining fastener, as she tried to process Jones' response. She had slept rather poorly the night before, plagued by vivid dreams. The events of the previous day had called up old ghosts she'd long ceased acknowledging, and try as she might, she couldn't keep them at a distance.

She had dreamed that she was back in Alushta, combing the smoldering ruins for the dead. She couldn't inhale, because a foul smoke hung thickly in the street, blocking out the sun. One hand gripped her rifle, while the other held a kerchief over her mouth and nose. Her memories were quite specific here, and she could feel the rough wood of her weapon against her palm. She was sure there had been others with her, but in her dreams, she was always alone.

She had reached the end of the street, counting the dwellings under her breath. Stepping through the ashes, she rounded the corner, steadying her nerves. But at that precise moment, something shifted, and she was standing in an empty lot, surrounded by shattered buildings. There wasn't a trace of the house in which she'd been born, nor the people who had occupied it. She stood in the charred grass, spine crawling, suddenly sure that the house had never existed.

The nightmare had ended suddenly, and Spalko had awakened to the reassuring light of morning. Now, she shook off her lingering unease, focusing on the present. Jones was looking at her curiously, brow lifted.

"You okay?"

She ignored his question. "If you wish to continue our partnership, I am willing to wait for you to finish your search. One day more, and then-"

"I don't exactly trust you, Dr. Spalko," Jones said cuttingly.

"You have my word that, once we reach base camp, I will allow you to leave unhindered."

He squinted at her, getting slowly to his feet. As he spoke, he stirred the coals with the tip of his boot. "Give me an hour. I need to think."

* * *

><p>Indy picked up a stone and tossed it out across the water, growling under his breath as it fell with a splash. The grass under his feet was damp with dew, and his arms were itchy with mosquito bites. Straightening up, he ran his fingernails over the small welts, sighing in frustration. He really didn't want to make the decision facing him, but time was running short. Spalko would be waiting impatiently for his return.<p>

He knew in his gut that Marion had survived, but he saw no sign of her here. Perhaps she had moved on, sure that he had been killed. But he liked to think that she would have searched for him. He tried to imagine her reaction, as she emerged from the temple only to find him missing. Had she panicked, had she searched frantically for a sign of what had happened? Indy thought it was likely.

But then, where was she?

Indy rocked back on his heels, mentally running through his options. Good sense told him that he should leave with Spalko. After all, the rainforest was a dangerous place, and it would be foolish to trek through the wilderness alone. He remembered his last trip to the Amazon; he'd contracted a nasty case of typhus that had cut his expedition short by several weeks. Another researcher in the group had also contracted the disease, and they'd needed to be airlifted out of the jungle. The second man had later suffered long-term damage to the liver.

It was becoming obvious to Jones what his choice needed to be. _I'm sorry, sweetheart._

He didn't realize he'd voiced the thought aloud until he heard the echo come back to him over the water. A sudden feeling of calm drifted over him. Marion would be all right, he was sure of it. As much as he hated to admit it, Spalko had been right about continuing to search. He knew he wouldn't find anything here.

Indy turned away from the water, stepping through the long grass that edged the shore. Sliding the brim of his hat down his forehead, he headed back to camp.

* * *

><p>Marion Ravenwood swung her legs over the side of the vehicle, landing with a thud on the leafy ground. It was dark this deep within the jungle, but a greenish glow emanated from the canopy far above her head. The ground was muddy, and she picked her way carefully to the front of the duck, sliding into the driver's seat beside her son. Mutt blinked languidly.<p>

"Time to switch off?"

She nodded. "Oxley's already in back."

The boy seemed to perk up, and he pulled distractedly at his tee shirt, wrinkled and damp with sweat. Lifting one hand, he rapped his knuckles on the console. "Be careful. Ox says the brakes need maintenance."

"Dammit," Marion cursed softly. Looking over at Mutt, she shook her head at his disheveled appearance. His hair was thick with dust, and his arms and face were sunburned. A barely healed scar showed on his cheek, and his eyes were red. The journey hadn't been kind to them, and Marion was sure she looked similarly worn.

Appearances were the least of her concerns, however. They'd been traveling for nearly two days, and already the vehicle was beginning to wear down. She recalled that it had taken a full week for Spalko's convoy to reach Akator, so the duck would need to last a few more days. Given that the Russians had cleared a path from their base camp to the City of Gold, it wouldn't be difficult to find their way back. Still, if the group lost their means of transportation, the trip would take much longer.

Stamping the brake, Marion put the car into gear. There was a disconcerting roar from the engine, but as she steered onto the newly-cleared road, it quieted to a steady hum. Sunlight fell in patterns on the road before her, and a slight breeze stirred her hair. She gripped the steering wheel firmly, unable to let go of her frustration.

In the back of her mind, Indy always lurked. She still felt guilty about leaving without him, although she knew it had been the right decision. What she hated most was the uncertainty of his fate, her inability to gain closure. She had dealt with the death of her father by telling herself to move on, by reminding herself that she couldn't honor her Abner Ravenwood's memory by wallowing in her grief. But this was something entirely different. She had no assurances that Indy was dead, and no reason to believe that he had survived. The ambiguity rested on her like a physical weight.

If he was alive, there would be quite a bit of unfinished business to settle. She loved Jones, she couldn't deny it, but things had changed. Marion had grown up, and she couldn't imagine carrying on as they had before, all those years ago. Now, she wanted permanence.

Mutt tapped her shoulder, and she turned to find him holding up a canteen. "Want some water?"

She nodded in thanks. Taking the bottle from him, she used one hand to lift it to her lips. The water was warm, with a tinny taste, but she took a few gulps anyway. Replacing the cap, she handed it back to her son, who stashed it under his seat.

"You drink some too, Mutt." She glanced over at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. He caught her expression and nodded quickly, snatching up the discarded canteen.

Marion returned her attention to the road. Again, Jones crept into her thoughts, but she sternly pushed him away. Either he was alive, or he wasn't, and worrying wouldn't do a bit of good. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, and stared directly ahead. Soon, her head quieted, and she let herself be lulled by the motion of the vehicle.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey! Sorry for the infrequent updates; life's crazy. As always, reviews are much appreciated! :)**


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